


The Monsters of Humanity

by XX_InfinityWriter_XX



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Broken Castiel, Broken Wings, Concerned Sam, Cutting, Depression, Drinking to Cope, Excessive Drinking, Human Castiel, Hurt Castiel, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Multiple, POV Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Worried Dean, cas loses wings, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-25 22:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7549210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_InfinityWriter_XX/pseuds/XX_InfinityWriter_XX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel falls, it's more painful for him than the boys can imagine. Not only is he human, but his wings were ripped directly off of his back. He has no where to go and feels he has nothing left to live for. The boys give him a room at the bunker so they can keep an eye on him and his recovery. They expected him to be sad and maybe in some pain, but that's not what they got.</p><p>They didn't expect that he wouldn't leave his room. They didn't expect the wounds on his back that show exactly where his wings had met his body. They didn't expect that he'd be depressed and they certainly didn't expect him to try and kill himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monsters of Humanity

**Author's Note:**

> **This story takes place at the season 8 finale with a few differences. Everything up to then is canon.**
> 
> T/W: Please read with caution, there will be mentions of a suicide attempt and severe depression.
> 
> This story was heavily inspired by this picture: http://destiel-fanart-is-the-weapon.tumblr.com/post/144710822894/i-finished-it-this-is-the-completed-version-of. Please check it out, it is absolutely amazing. It was created by Serafire on Tumblr. Give her love on her blog: serafire.tumblr.com.
> 
> Thanks to DarkHeartInTheSky for beta-ing this for me. It was a huge help to have her give me ideas and tips when I had no direction for the story. Go give her some love too for me :)

The Fall only took two hours.

From Earth, it looked like it took only a few minutes.

To Castiel, it felt like he was falling for years while being burned alive. He knows he screamed, but after an hour his voice went out. He heard his siblings crying out as well, but they too became silent. He knows that they all blame him for this. Hell, he blames himself for this too. How could he be so stupid? Trusting Metatron was the biggest mistake in his life and he will never forgive himself.

The pain was worse than anything he's ever felt in his life. In all of the times he's died or been tortured, none of it was this excruciating.

His body was on fire, his wings felt as if they were being ripped from his back, yet he knew hitting the ground was going to be worse. He knew it would feel like his bones were shattering. He knew that he'd hit Earth so hard that he would leave a crater. He knew all of that, but he wasn't prepared for any of it. So, when he hit the ground, he thought he was going to die.

He thought of Sam, Dean, Anna, and Gabriel. He thought of his family, not the angels, but his family. The family that had taken him in and taught him how to be free. The family who cared for him and forgave him when he didn't deserve it. He prayed to God for forgiveness and understanding. He apologized for all of his mistakes. He prepared to die.

It was as if his bones were being broken one by one. He could feel every single one shatter, but that wasn't even the worst pain he was feeling.

He knew his wings were gone the moment he landed.

It was more than a feeling; he could tell they were gone. Not just his grace, which Metatron had stolen, but his actual wings were gone. He doesn't remember much of what happened while he laid in the hole he created, but he does remember the tears running down his cheeks and his broken sobs. He cried for his siblings who fell with him, for his broken wings, and for his friends-- no, his family who he knows he disappointed again.

He knows that Dean and Sam could very well be furious at him. It is his fault, after all. But he wants to be with them and he needs to go to the bunker so he can heal-- if he can heal.

Cas laid in his crater for nearly a day. He prayed to God for help, to send someone-- anyone to help him.

He remembers trying to get up and walk out of the crater, but he was unsuccessful and passed out from shock and exhaustion.

***

Cas wakes up in the dark somewhere soft and warm. The first thing he notices is the smell of what he's laying on; it smells familiar-- like home. He's not sure what it is, but he knows it's a good sign. He makes a quiet sound as he rolls over on his back, but it turns into a loud groan as a sharp pain shoots through his body. He moans and attempts to roll back onto his side, but his whole body feels like jello.

He pushes himself off of the bed and lands hard on the floor with another moan. Every part of his body aches, so he lays on the floor for an undetermined number of minutes and tries to get the strength to move.

It takes him a few minutes and a lot of effort, but he eventually gets on his feet. He walks slowly over to the closed door and feels for the doorknob. Once he swings it open, it's obvious that he's in the bunker, meaning that Sam and Dean found him. He sends thanks to God that it was them and not someone who would want to harm him before he walks out into the hallway.

"Dean?" He tries to shout, hoping to get anyone's attention, but it comes out barely a whisper. He begins to walk toward the kitchen, hoping to find the boys there.

Each step he takes needs more effort than he can give, which means that he stumbles and falls a couple of times. It's a wonder neither brother has heard him yet, with all of the small moans and grunts he's making. He makes it to the kitchen and finds nobody, so he continues on to the library. If they aren't there, he'll just sit in one of the chairs until they come from their rooms or back from their hunt. He's not sure how much more walking he'll be able to do.

Lucky for him, Dean is in the library. He begins to say something, but it comes out as a moan as he trips again and catches himself on a bookshelf.

"Cas!" Dean shouts, rushing forward help Cas. "Are you okay?" Dean asks once he is supporting him. Cas shakes his head and moans quietly. Dean sits him gently in a chair and kneels in front of him to try and get Cas's attention. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"My back," Cas rasps out. Dean walks around the chair and pulls Cas's shirt up off of his back gently.

"Oh my god. Cas--" Dean says, his voice just a harsh whisper. He sounds in pain, like whatever he is seeing is physically hurting him. Cas makes a curious noise, asking Dean for an explanation of why he's upset. When it doesn't come, Cas begins to turn around to face him. "No, Cas, don't move. I'm gonna go grab-- Sam!" he shouts, his hand running soothingly through Cas's hair.

"Dean what's wrong?" Cas asks, nervousness and worry beginning to grow. Dean says nothing, just runs another soft hand through Cas's hair.

"I'm sorry Cas," Dean says quietly, almost like he didn't mean for it to come out.

"Dean? What's--" Sam comes running in, slightly out of breath. "Cas?"

"Sammy, get the first aid kit. Now Sam!" Dean shouts at a confused looking Sam. Dean walks around Cas so he's facing him and grabs the side of his face. His hands are gentle where they cup his jaw. "What happened? Sam and I found you in a hole, passed out. What happened, Cas?" Dean's voice is firm and concerned, but he keeps it soft.

"I fell-- we all fell. Every angel in heaven fell to Earth," Cas says, looking away from Dean's eyes. "It was my fault. Metatron tricked me and stole my grace, but I literally fell from heaven. Dean, what's wrong with my back?" he asks, concerned and scared.

"Cas, it's--"

"Dean I got the kit. What's going on?" Sam bursts in again, handing a small box to Dean. Dean looks up at him and glances towards Cas's back. Sam walks around where Cas's shirt is still pulled up. He gasps, worrying Cas further. "Oh my-- Dean?" Sam says, placing a light hand on Cas's back. He pulls it back immediately when Cas hisses in pain.

"Dean? What is wrong?" Cas says, firmly. His back aches and he needs to know why. It hurts too badly to just be a bruise.   

"Your wings Cas. I think-- I think they're gone," Dean murmurs, not meeting Castiel's eyes. Cas jumps up quickly and runs to the bathroom, where he pulls his shirt off all of the way and looks in the mirror. Dean and Sam run to catch up with him and when they do, it's a sad sight.

Cas is on his knees, crying into his hands while broken sobs escape from his throat.

"Oh Cas, shhhh it's gonna be okay," Dean says, walking up slowly and pulling Cas into his chest. Dean wraps his arms around Cas as Cas grips on to his shirt like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. Cas is sobbing into Dean, his tears staining Dean's shirt. "I'm sorry, Cas, I'm so sorry."

"No no no no," Cas mumbles into Dean's chest, but Dean's not sure who he's talking to. God, maybe. Dean gently rocks them back and forth while making quiet cooing noises like he's with an injured animal. Cas doesn't mind, it's kind of soothing.

All of his energy is gone. He can barely breath, let alone move, and Dean seems to sense that. He keeps making soothing noises and holding Cas, running his hands through his dark hair. He keeps muttering apologies and telling Cas that it will be okay. Cas wishes he could believe him.

"It's going to be okay, we'll get through it like we always do. We'll get through it together," Dean says into Cas's hair. He pulls Cas in closer and holds him tighter, like he's trying to keep Cas from falling apart. Cas snuffles and buries his face farther in Dean's chest, tears still falling down his cheeks.

***

Cas wakes again pressed up against something warm. The room is dark and he can feel someone's arms wrapped around him. He feels strangely safe, but still exhausted.

Whoever is holding him snores quietly and presses their face into his hair.

Cas's whole body hurts. His limbs feel heavy and his head is throbbing. He tries to ignore how much his back aches.

He doesn't remember falling asleep against Dean, but with how tired he was, it's not strange that he did. He thinks Dean is probably the one holding him, Cas doubts that Sam would be holding him like this.

Cas realizes what the smell from yesterday morning in bed had been. It was Dean. No wonder he thought it smelled like home; it is home.  

He doesn't know what he would do without Dean and Sam. If not for them, he would probably still be an angel. He would still be following orders and have no idea what being free feels like. Then again, none of the angels would have fallen. But, the apocalypse might've happened.

He's not sure if it's a good thing that he met the Winchesters. He's happy he did, but he doesn't know if the world is better because he rebelled. His world is at least.

He thinks about Anna. Would she be happy that he rebelled since his rebellion undoubtedly led to the fall? He's not sure. He knows that she'd be proud of him for sticking up for himself and his beliefs. He knows that she would be happy that he saved Sam and Dean.

Would she be proud that he was so desperate to beat Raphael that he ended up releasing monsters in the world? That he ended up killing innocent people because he developed a God complex? Would she be proud that he kicked every angel from heaven because he trusted someone he knew better than to trust?

No, he thinks, she definitely would not be proud of him based on those choices.

What about Balthazar? What would he think about Cas's decisions? Would he stand behind Castiel because they were close, or would he decide that Cas had crossed a line and hunt him down like every other angel is sure to be doing this very moment?

Cas isn't sure. He's not sure how Dean or Sam feel. He's not even sure about how he feels either.

"Cas?" Dean says groggily, almost immediately after he wakes up. "Are you okay?" he asks after a few moments without an answer.

"No," Cas answers simply. He turns his head and buries his face into Dean's chest. He's warm and his shirt is soft, so Cas feels instantly a little more comfortable. Dean hugs him tighter, like he knows how much Cas just needs it. "Dean, what am I going to do?"

"You’re going to stay here with Sam and I, at least until you're better. You're going to get through this with us. We are going to find Metatron and make him pay for what he has done. It will be okay Cas," Dean says. He sounds so positive and Cas wishes he could believe him. He wants to believe he's right, but he knows better.

"I can stay here?" Cas asks. Dean nods insistently and tells Cas that of course he can stay and asks why he wouldn't. Cas doesn't have an answer besides the fact that he is a failure and doesn't deserve forgiveness. He doesn't think Dean would like that answer very much.

He feels a stray tear run down his cheek without his permission. He sniffles, drawing Dean's attention. Lucky for Cas, he says nothing, just begins rubbing soothing circles on his back below where his wings had been. Not only does this calm Cas down, but it helps the ache in his back to go away. Cas turns his face into Dean's shirt again and begins sobbing. Dean doesn't say anything, just continues rubbing his back until he's done crying.

"It's going to be okay, Cas. I promise."

***

2 Weeks Later

"Dean, I'm sure he's fine. He just needs some time to adjust," Sam says one morning while Dean is pouring his coffee. He's been unable to sleep and can barely eat ever since he saw Cas's back. He knows he's not doing Cas any good by being this way, but he's just too worried about the ex-angel to care. And it's not like Cas is doing any better than Dean is.

Ever since the morning he woke up in Dean's arms, he hasn't been talking. He hasn't even been really moving. All he does is lay in his bed and either stare at the wall or watch shitty daytime television that Dean despises. Dean has tried not to worry about him so much, telling himself that what happened was traumatizing and Cas just needs time to move on, but he can't help feeling like there is something seriously wrong with him. He wants to help Cas, he just doesn't know how.

So Dean holds him, he lets Cas cry in his chest or sob, he tells him it's going to be okay because that's all he can do. But watching Cas fall apart in his arms is breaking his heart. He doesn't know how many more times he can watch Cas cry or hear him apologize until he just falls apart too. It kills him. He just wants to take the pain away. He would take it from Cas and suffer through it himself if he could.

"Dean?" Sam says, concern lacing his voice. Dean doesn't want Sam to worry about him, but he knows he does. Especially with how Dean's been acting lately, moping around in the bunker and constantly walking past Cas's room and standing outside of the door to make sure he's okay.

"Yea?" Dean asks, his voice clipped. He's also been irritable and grumpy, due to lack of sleep and stress, at least according to Sam. Dean thinks he's been reacting appropriately to the situation. His best friend is hurt, after all. He blames Sam for being too calm under the circumstances. Dean can't help that he doesn't like seeing people he lo-- cares about-- in pain.

"I just asked if you are okay, but I think I have my answer," Sam says sarcastically, and honestly pissing Dean off. He takes a large drink of the scalding coffee, liking the burn it causes in the back of his throat, before slamming the cup down.

"What the fuck does that mean, Sam?" Dean growls, his voice holding a dangerous edge. Sam doesn't even flinch, just looks at Dean with a calm expression. "I'm not going to apologize for being worried about him."

"Dean, nobody is asking you to. But you need to take better care of yourself so you don't end up sick too," Sam says. Dean rolls his eyes and grabs the coffee again to take another burning gulp. He actually hates black coffee, but he needs the bitterness right now. Why should he be able to drink something good when Cas can't even get out of bed?

Dean wants something a little stronger than coffee, but it's only nine in the morning and Sam would have his head. But God, does he want a drink.

"I'm fine," Dean lies. He knows he's not, he can't function with Cas being the way he is. He feels so damn guilty, he should have done something. He should have at least tried to stop Cas. He should have tried to protect him from Metatron and he's not sure he'll ever forgive himself for not being able to.

"Dean--" Sam starts. Dean glares at him, which keeps him from continuing. Dean really is not in the mood for any of the touchy-feely crap that Sam is notorious for encouraging.

"Sam. Drop it," Dean growls. He grabs another coffee mug and fills it halfway before grabbing a banana. Sam gives him a curious look and Dean shrugs. "He's got to be getting hungry. If he's not going to get up, I'll take it to him," Dean says. Sam looks at him with concern and sympathy, which pisses Dean off. He puts a couple of scoops of sugar in the coffee, unsure how Cas would like it, before storming out of the kitchen.

When he reaches Cas's closed bedroom door, he pauses. He takes a deep breath and knocks. He doesn't hear an answer, but he doesn't want to just barge in on Cas. If Cas is sleeping, he doesn't want to wake him up. He knows that Cas has been having a hard time sleeping too.

"Cas?" Dean says, knocking again. He hears a quiet mumble and decides to take that as a 'come in'. He opens the door with a slight struggle, trying not drop the banana or the coffee, and walks in.

The room is submerged in darkness and Dean can barely make out a small bump in the bed where Cas is lying. He slowly walks to the nightstand and places the coffee and banana on it.

"I brought you some food and a cup of coffee. I thought you might be getting hungry," Dean says. Cas mumbles something, but his voice is hoarse. Dean thinks it's probably from crying, which breaks his heart.

"No t.v. today?" Dean asks cheerily, like he's seen nurses in the hospital do. He's not necessarily happy that he's becoming a nurse, but he doesn't care if it helps Cas get better. Maybe having someone take care of him will make him feel less shitty.

Cas shakes his head.

"Do you feel like trying to eat?" Dean asks hopefully.

Another shake.

Dean sighs and runs a soft hand through Cas's mess of dark hair. He sits down on the edge of the bed and moves his hand to Cas's back. He begins to rub soothing circles, avoiding the gashes from the wings, just trying to do anything he can to help Cas feel a little better. He can't tell if Cas minds, but he's not pulling away so he figures it's okay. He just feels so helpless, he can't stand it. He just wants Cas to recover.

"How about a shower? It might make you feel better," Dean suggests. Cas shakes his head again and Dean sighs sadly. "Please? For me? Let me help you feel better," he asks. Cas turns his head, finally, to meet Dean's eyes. Even in the dark Dean can see how bright blue they are and he feels like they hold a little bit of Cas's stolen grace because of how bright they shine, but right now they aren't even as bright as normal.

Cas looks at him for a minute, his eyes searching, before nodding slowly. Dean smiles and rubs Cas's back one more time before he stands up and offers his hand to Cas. Cas sits up slowly and takes his hand. Dean notices how Cas's hands are shaking, probably from lack of food and stress. It feels like another stab to his heart and he struggles to keep himself from crying.

Dean begins to help Cas up, but before he can, Cas wraps his arm around Dean and buries his face in his chest. He places a hand on Dean’s arm, nearly where his mark from being pulled out of Hell had been. Dean cradles Cas’s head and pulls him closer, letting him stay there for as long as he needs. Dean’s not complaining about it. At least Cas is showing some kind of emotion.

He eventually helps Cas stand up on shaky legs and guides him slowly to Dean's bathroom down the hall. Their bedrooms are actually right next to each other, which Dean did on purpose when he told Cas he could stay in the bunker. He wanted to make sure Cas could come to him at any time if he needed him.

When they reach the bathroom Dean gently sits Cas on the toilet while he starts the water. He runs out into the hallway to grab a towel from the linen closet. When he gets back in the bathroom, his heart breaks, again.

Cas has his shirt off and is looking in the bathroom mirror at his back, the wounds still open. Dean had asked if Cas wanted him to stitch up the gashes, but Cas refused, saying that it would be more painful. Dean doesn't say anything, just walks over to the fallen angel. A single tear falls on to Cas's cheek and Dean wipes it away as soon as it falls. Cas looks at him with watery eyes, but his face is completely expressionless.

"Do you want me to help you?" Dean asks, unsure of what Cas's answer will be. Cas looks at him, his eyes searching again like he can see into his soul, before nodding once. "Okay."

Dean knows that angels don't mind nakedness, that they don't feel awkward about human functions, hell he's not even sure if angels have sex. That doesn't make him feel less awkward as he puts his hands on Cas's waistband and beginning to pull his pants down his legs.

He leaves Cas in his boxers and pulls the shower curtain open. He's not sure if Cas wants him in the shower to literally help him, or if he wants him to just wait in the bathroom just in case he needs something.

"Do you, uh-- do you want me to get in with you? Just-- um, if you need something," Dean stutters, feeling heat rush into his cheeks. Cas does that head tilt thing that Dean finds absolutely adorable.

"If you're okay with it, I think I need help washing my hair," Cas says, his voice raspier and lower than usual from lack of use. Dean nods and pulls his shirt over his head without another moment of hesitation. He tugs his pants down too, leaving both of them in their boxers. Dean takes a deep breath and tugs his boxers down too, Cas's eyes on him the whole time.

Cas follows suit and Dean forces himself not to look. Now is not the time. Cas is hurting and he needs him to keep his head out of the gutter.

Dean hops in the shower with Cas following him with slow movements. It looks like every single movement takes so much energy and hurts like hell, which it probably does.

Once Cas is in, Dean gently guides him into the water stream, allowing the water to drip down his face and back. When the water hits Cas's back, a small whimper escapes him and he flinches.

"I know, I'm sorry," Dean whispers, pulling him forward and turning him so Cas's back is to Dean. Cas moves so easily, like putty in Dean's hands, but it feels more like he's given up than a show of trust for Dean. Dean grabs his shampoo and squeezes a small amount into his hand. He rubs his hands together a little and then begins gently massaging into Cas's hair.

He melts when Cas leans into the touch.

The soap runs down Cas's back despite Dean's efforts to keep it from doing so. Cas whimpers again, louder this time. Dean feels his eyes welling up with tears at the sound and he forces himself to swallow his sadness. He rinses the shampoo from Cas's hair mechanically, whispering apologies every time Cas flinches out of pain. Once all of the soap is out of Cas's hair, Dean shuts the water off and jumps out of the shower to grab the towel. He dries off Cas, who is standing numbly in the shower.

Dean grabs another towel for himself and dries himself off. He tells Cas to wait in the bathroom for a second before running down the hall to his room and grabbing some clothes for the both of them.

When he returns Cas is still standing, frozen. He grabs a pair of his boxer shorts and slides them on Cas without much of the angel’s help before doing the same with one of his favorite pairs of sweatpants. He figured Cas could borrow some of his clothes until they buy him some new ones. He then grabs his favorite t-shirt and slips it over Cas's wet head. He gently slides it down Cas's torso, making sure that it doesn't rub against his back more than necessary.

After Dean has gotten dressed himself, he walks Cas back to his room and lies him down on the bed. He hears Cas sniffle, so he runs a hand through Cas's wet hair and shushes him gently.

"It'll be okay, you'll see," Dean reassures. Cas doesn't say anything, just turns his face into the pillow and moving his head out of Dean's reach in one motion. Dean gets the message and pulls his hand back. "I'm just gonna--" he says, letting the sentence trail off. He looks towards Cas sadly before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

***

1 Week Later

"Seriously Dean? Who the fuck is this helping?" Sam yells at his brother, who is currently drunk out of his mind. Dean had left the bunker at two in the afternoon, saying that he just needed a drive. Now it's two in the morning and Dean just drove home from a bar and he's so drunk he can barely walk.

Sam doesn't even know how the hell Dean drove himself home, he can’t even stand up. Dean just laughs as he falls sideways. Sam darts forward to catch him, Dean's weight coming to rest heavily on his side.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed? Trying to wrap the Impala around a fucking tree? Jesus Dean," Sam continues, grunting as he lugs Dean into his room. Sam sits him down and begins untying Dean’s shoes.

"I'm sorry Sammy, s'just-- m'so helpless. Just wanna make 'm better. I love 'm, so fuckin' much," Dean slurs. Sam gasps quietly and looks up at his brother, whose eyes are half closed.

Of course Sam had known that Dean and Cas had a bond, hell Cas even told him so, but he never realized just how deep Dean's feelings went. It all suddenly makes sense.

Dean not eating, standing outside of Cas's door at night, only sleeping for maybe two hours at a time-- it all makes sense. How could Sam not have seen it before? He had mistaken love for just pure friendly concern. He looks up at Dean again and sees that he's crying silently.

Sam tugs the shoes off and picks up Dean's legs to swing them onto the bed. Dean mumbles a thanks, tears still falling down his cheeks. He keeps muttering 'I love him' under his breath and Sam's heart breaks for his brother. He knows how much compassion Dean has for people he cares about. Dean wears his heart on his sleeve and Sam knows how much it kills Dean to not be able to protect and save everyone. It's obvious in the ways he sacrifices himself for others.

"I know Dean, I know," Sam says softly, like he's talking to a wounded animal. He shushes Dean gently and pulls the blanket over Dean's body. A broken sob escapes Dean's body, shaking his whole body. "Shh." Sam touches Dean's arm. A soft snore comes from Dean, revealing just how drunk he actually was. Sam turns and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

He's so worried about Dean it's making him physically sick. This is the fourth time in a week that Dean has drank himself into a stupor and Sam knows that he hasn't eaten anything in six days. To be honest, Sam is terrified that Dean is going to kill himself.

Yea, Sam is worried about Cas. It's obvious that the ex-angel is majorly depressed and in pain, but the worse Cas gets the worse Dean gets. It's an endless cycle that Sam can't put a stop to. He wishes he knew how to help either of them, but they can only help each other.

That's what scares Sam the most.

***

The Next Day

Dean wakes up with his head pounding. He groans immediately and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks around and is confused when he realizes that he's in his bed in the bunker. He's not sure how he even got home last night. The last thing he remembers is drinking about six shots of whiskey and nearly punching a guy at the bar for hitting on him.

He sits up too quickly and hisses as the blood rushes to his head. He vows never to drink so much again, but knows instantly that he's lying to himself. He wouldn't be surprised if he drank himself stupid again tonight.

The question of how he got home still remains. Did he call Sam or take a cab? If he called Sam he'd never hear the end of it. Even drunk Dean would know that fact, so odds are he called a cab, which means he left Baby in the bar parking lot. He's going to be pissed if anything is wrong with her when he goes to get her later.

He gets up slowly and notices that he is still in his jeans and shirt from last night, but his shoes are off. Normally he would strip as soon as he got in his room, even if he was drunk, so it's strange that he's still dressed. He guesses he was more hammered than he thought.

He makes his way slowly to the kitchen, grabbing a coffee cup before he even looks around the room. He pours some of the liquid in the cup and takes a large drink. He scans the room and finds Sam looking at him with sympathy and concern in his famous puppy dog eyes.

Dean rolls his eyes and grabs some Ibuprofen from the cupboard, swallowing two with a grimace.

"Okay, out with it," Dean says after another drink of coffee. He thinks it's too damn early for this, but he can't stand Sam looking at him like that. Sam sighs and rolls his eyes.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Sam asks, his voice even but with a dangerous edge to it.

"What's you're problem? I'm old enough to drink Sam, so if I feel the need I'm going to fucking drink," Dean says. He knows his tone is defensive, but he still has a raging headache and Sam talking to him like he's a kid isn't helping his pissy mood. Sam makes an exasperated sound before turning sharply to look at him.

"My problem? You drove yourself home Dean, but you couldn't even walk yourself to bed!" Sam shouts, his voice no longer calm. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? God, I know you're worried about Cas, but you can't do this Dean! I won't let you ruin yourself because of him being sick and you being unable to help."

Dean looks at Sam in shock. He honestly can't believe he drove himself home. He has no answer for Sam, except that he's sorry. He wasn't actively trying to kill himself, but now that he thinks back on it, he doesn't think he had been too worried about it. Sam continues looking at him with anger in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean says, his voice breaking slightly. "I just-- I don't know what to do," he admits. He feels a tear fall onto his cheek and curses himself internally. He can't believe he's fucking crying like this, but he can't make himself stop. He's strung out so much that he is falling apart at the seams.

"Do you remember anything from last night after you got home?" Sam asks quietly. Dean shakes his head. The last thing he remembers is from at the bar. "You told me some things, but I'm not sure if you meant to say them. But Dean, just know, you don't have to-- to suffer alone," Sam says, hesitating.

Dean can't remember anything he said. What the fuck did he say?

"What are you talking about?" Dean asks, extremely nervous. Sam's acting-- strange, which is freaking Dean out. He could have said any number of things that are swirling around his brain right now and all would cause Sam to say those words. Sam looks down at the table and begins messing with his empty cup. "Sam, what did I say?"

"Um, okay. Okay-- you told me, well uh, um-- Dean you said that you--" Sam stutters, not looking at Dean.

"Sam! Spit it out!" Dean says, raising his voice a little.

"You said that you love him!" Sam yells back. Sam’s eyes go wide once he realizes he actually said it. They both sit staring at each other for a moment. Dean sits frozen in shock as the words echo in his head.

"Love who?" He whispers, trying to play dumb. Sam looks down and doesn't say anything. He doesn't need to, Dean knows. They both know that Dean knows.

"Dean, you know I don't care, but you don't have to go through this alone. I know you're hurting because he is, but you can't keep doing this," Sam says. Dean feels tears welling up in his eyes again and tries to swallow them down. "Dean, it's going to be okay. He's going to get better, you'll see," he says. Dean nods numbly, the realization that Sam knows still sinking in.

He nods again and stands up, his muscle aching. He can hear Sam saying something to him, but he doesn't understand any of the words. Dean feels numb, but at the same time he feels so overwhelmed with emotions. He hates it. He can't control himself and he can feel himself starting to panic.

Sam can't know. He's dealt with his feeling by himself for years, the thought that someone knows is just-- it's terrifying. It makes him so much more vulnerable than he wants to be.

When he breaks out of his thoughts he's standing outside of Cas's room. The door is closed, but he can hear the television. He feels the rush of panic again and has no idea what the hell is going on.

Why can't he get control over himself? He has no idea what's happening and it's making him freak out even more. He feels like he can't breath, everything is closing in on him. His lungs are moving, he knows they are, but he can't get any air.

He leans his head against the door and feels tears streaming down his face. He barely suppresses a sob and sinks to the floor.

He doesn't know what to do.   

***

3 Weeks Later

"Come on Cas, please say something," Dean pleads, his face wet with tears. Cas is looking at him with vacant blue eyes. Dean's hands are holding Cas's face and his hands are trembling harshly. "Please," he whispers. Cas can see how much this is paining Dean, but he doesn't feel anything about it. He doesn't feel anything at all these days.

He knows how much Dean and Sam have been worrying about him, but he doesn't care. Cas has nothing to live for. His wings are gone, his grace is gone, and heaven hates him. He hates himself. He was stupid trusting Metatron, how could he have done that? He wishes he had died in the Fall or that Metatron had killed him. He doesn't want to be alive anymore.

The only reason he's alive right now is because he doesn't want to make Dean and Sam bury another one of their friends. But now, even that sounds like a stupid reason. If he were dead, yea it would hurt them a little, but at least they could stop worrying about him so much. He knows it's putting a strain on their relationship, he's heard them shouting more and more lately. He never can make out the words.

And then there's the situation right now. Dean sitting on his bed crying for the third time this week. Before Cas lost his wings he had seen Dean cry one time. Now he's seen it nearly every other day.

He put those tears there. That's what hurts the most. Not that he lost his wings, not that he is hated by his brothers and sisters, but because he has caused one of the only people he cares about pain.

"Please Cas, I need you. I can't-- Please," Dean says, his voice breaking. He sobs, shaking his whole body and leans forward to rest his forehead against Cas's. "Anything, please. Cas," he says again, his words mumbled.

Cas hasn't cried to Dean in a month. He hasn't allowed himself to. He knows that when he does, it hurts Dean even more so he has saves his tears for when Dean is not around. Cas hasn't gotten out of bed in a month either, except to use the bathroom. He knows he should shower, he should eat, he knows all of that. He just can't. He can't move, he can't do anything. He's worthless and he knows it.

And being human is so exhausting. He has so many needs now, so many things to worry about. His stomach aches from not eating, but he can’t make himself do it. Dean even brings him food every day, but he doesn’t eat it. He has to get out of the comfort of his bed to use to bathroom at least twice a day and he hates that with a passion. He definitely never envied humans for that.

Not to mention the emotions that come with being human. As an angel he could feel some things: anger, resentment, frustration, small amounts of sadness, and even love. It was never like this. He had never felt so sad, so depressed. He’d never felt this hopeless, either. And as a human, he’s finding that he feels guilty often too.

He feels guilty about making Dean and Sam take care of him and worry about him.

Dean hasn't even been hunting lately. Cas suspects Sam does, but Dean hasn't left the bunker in three weeks. Everything would be better if he just died, he knows it would. Then the brothers could just get back to their old life. Nobody would really miss him anyways. Sam and Dean would be sad for a while, but they would get over it. It'd be better in the long run.

"How about you let me look at your back, huh?" Dean asks with a watery smile that looks too forced. Cas just continues looking at him, so Dean gently guides him onto his stomach. Dean pulls his shirt up softly and gasps lightly. "Oh Cas," he says. Cas is confused, hasn't Dean already seen his back multiple times? "They don't look like they're healing," he explains. "Do they hurt still?"

Cas shakes his head minutely and Dean smiles slightly, saying that's good. He runs to the bathroom real quick to grab something, but Cas didn't even care enough to listen to Dean's explanation. He just doesn't care about anything.

Dean comes back in the room with a tube of something in his hands. His eyes are red rimmed and puffy, but he's no longer crying. He has his jaw set, like he does when he's determined to do something or he's trying to look more intimidating. He comes and sits on the bed next to Cas again. Cas's shirt is still pulled up, but Dean pushes it up more. Cas buries his face in the pillow and closes his eyes.

He hears something pop open and gasps silently when something cold touches his back.

"I'm putting some healing cream on your back," Dean explains, his voice hoarse. He begins gently massaging Cas's back where the gashes are. It doesn't hurt, it's just more of a slight sting wherever the cream touches. Cas stays still and remains silent while Dean applies it.

The gentleness of Dean's actions bring tears to Cas's eyes that he can't hold back. He cries silently into the pillow as Dean continues.

He hears a sniffle from behind him and his heart breaks a little. He can't keep doing this to Dean. He can't keep making his righteous man cry, it's going to kill him. This has to stop. He only knows one way to make it end.

***

Same Day

"Dean, are you okay?" Sam asks after Dean comes from Cas's room. He nods, but he can feel how puffy his eyes are so he probably doesn't look okay. Sam looks at him sympathetically, which he's been doing a lot lately. Dean can't stand it. And Sam told him that if he gets drunk again he'll take the keys to the Impala away.

Of course, that didn't go over well. They got in a huge fight that ended with Dean in a headlock and consenting not to drink until Sam says he can. But God, does he miss it. He's been so emotional lately and he can't drown it out with whiskey. It pisses him off.

Cas has also gotten worse, which makes Dean want to drink even more. He won't talk, he doesn't move, and he has stopped crying. It's like he can't even feel anything anymore. And that scares the shit out of Dean. He knows how it feels to be empty and without emotion.

He also knows what thoughts went through his head when he was in Cas’s position.

He can remember how hopeless he felt. How he didn’t care what happened to him or anyone else, not even Sam. He also remembers thinking of killing himself and he can’t help but worry if Cas has those thoughts.

He wants a drink.

And Cas hasn’t been healing, which worries Dean more. The wounds on his back aren’t any better, but Cas won’t let him stitch them up. He says that it will hurt more than letting them heal by themselves, but Dean’s not sure if he believes that. But he can’t understand why Cas would lie, so he chooses to try and believe him. Even if the lack of recovery worries him.

God, he _really wants a drink._

“Dean, are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asks, timidly. Dean rolls his eyes and slams the glass he’d been getting from the cupboard on the table. Sam doesn’t even blink, which pisses Dean off too.

“God Sam, I’m fine. I’m fucking fantastic, like always,” Dean growls, his anger rising. “Why the hell wouldn’t I be, huh? It’s not like anything’s going on, just that someone else I care about is in pain and I’m fucking helpless and I can’t fucking do anything about it!” he shouts, closer to tears then he will admit.

He can feel himself starting to panic and he can’t get himself to calm down. He knows what is about to happen, but he’s unable to stop shouting and working himself up.

“And I can’t drink, which is just the icing on the fucking cake. So yes, Sam, I’m fine!” Dean yells, suddenly unable to breath. He feels some tears running down his cheek, but he can’t make himself wipe them away. Sam is still sitting and looking at him with concern, but he also can’t get himself to yell at him anymore. It’s like he’s frozen in place.

It’s like suddenly all he can hear his blood pumping. Not Sam saying his name, just the sound of his blood in his ears. He still can’t catch his breath and he glances at Sam as a broken sob escapes his throat. He’s a gasping, sobbing mess and there’s nothing he can do.

He feels himself beginning to pass out and he tries to move, but can’t.

Then Sam is next to him, a steady hand on his back catching him, telling him to breath and trying to get him to calm down. Dean can’t hear him clearly, but the hand on his back helps to focus him.

By the time he manages to get his heart to slow down and his breathing back to normal, he has drying tear tracks on his cheeks and is his body violently shaking. Sam still has his hand on Dean’s back and guides him towards a chair. Dean collapses in it, suddenly exhausted.

“Do you need anything?” Sam asks, his hand now resting on Dean’s arm. “Water or-- or a blanket?” he asks when Dean doesn’t answer. All Dean replies with is a nod, so Sam grabs a blanket from Dean’s room and grabs him a bottle of water. He wraps the blanket around Dean’s shoulders before crouching down in front of him.

“How long have you been having panic attacks?” Sam asks quietly.

“A few months,” Dean answers, his voice hoarse from overuse. Sam nods in understanding. Dean didn’t want him to ever see him like that. It’s embarrassing and he feels pathetic for having them. He thinks he’s overreacting. He should be able to handle some stress, it’s not like he hasn’t been stressed before.

Dean knows that if his dad were alive, he’d be telling him to man up and to stop being dramatic.

Dean would tell John to fuck off.

“Dean,” Sam starts. Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand.

“We don’t have to do this, Sam. Now you know that I have them and we can just move on,” he says, no heat to his words. He feels so drained that he can’t manage to make himself sound angry. He just wants to sleep for the rest of forever.

That’s when they both hear it.

It’s just a small whimper, barely audible, but a whimper. It’s followed by a loud noise that make the brothers jump up. The blanket falls off of Dean as he takes a step forward. He glances at Sam, who is looking at him with concern and curiosity. When another small whimper comes from the hallway, both of them spring into action.

Dean runs to the hallway with the bedrooms and opens Cas’s door. The room is empty, so he looks down the hallway and sees that the bathroom light is on, but the door is shut.

He doesn’t have a good feeling about whatever is happening. Worry sits low in his gut and makes him want to puke because he knows this isn’t good. Cas hasn’t gotten out of bed except to go to the bathroom, so this isn’t unusual, but he never makes a sound. He hasn’t in a month.

“Cas?” Dean shouts, looking over at Sam, who looks like he has the same feeling as Dean. Dean walks over to the door and knocks, saying Cas’s name again. There’s not an answer, but another whimper comes from behind the door.

Dean tries to open the door, privacy be damned, but it’s locked. He looks over at Sam, whose eyes are filled with worry, and slams his shoulder into the door.

It takes two more tries for him to get the door open, but he manages. His shoulder hurts of course, but he doesn’t notice.

What he does notice is the blood on the white tiles of the bathroom floor. He notices the blood dripping from vertical cuts on his angel’s arms. He thinks Sam says something, but it sounds like he’s underwater.

Before Dean knows what’s happening, he’s next to Castiel and is wrapping his overshirt around one of Cas’s arms. Sam is doing the same to the other arm, but Dean’s not looking at him. He’s looking at the ex-angel, whose face is pale and streaked with tears and who is staring at him with sorry blue eyes.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. There’s no way that he can stitch up Cas on his own, people always tell you that you can’t close up vertical cuts on arms. He looks at Sam, who is already on the phone with the paramedics, or so Dean assumes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Cas is sobbing, but it’s nearly impossible to make out what he’s saying. Dean shushes him and pulls Cas against his chest while keeping pressure on his arm. The shirt is already soaked through with blood, which isn’t a good sign.

Dean looks around the room and sees an angel blade on the tiles. Cas must have dropped it when he was done. That’s probably what the loud noise was.

The thought makes Dean sick to his stomach again and the blood around him is not helping the situation. All he can think is ‘He tried to kill himself. My angel tried to kill himself.’ Dean looks over at Sam again, who is keeping pressure on the other arm.

“It’s gonna be okay, it’s okay,” Sam says, his voice cracking on every other word. He’s nodding, like he’s trying to convince himself too. “It’s going to be okay,” he says. Dean looks at Cas and his stomach drops; his eyes are closed and it looks like he passed out. “Dean, it’ll be okay. There’s an ambulance on the way, just stay with me.”

Dean’s not sure why Sam is telling _him_ to stay with him.

That’s when he realizes how light headed he is and how there are tears running down his face. When he realizes that he’s telling Cas that he loves him and that he can’t die, because Dean needs him. When he’s saying that he doesn’t know if he can live without Cas. How he doesn’t want to live without Cas, but he’s sure that he can’t anyways.  

If Dean’s being honest, all of those things are completely true.

***

“How could this happen?” Dean whispers, sitting in the waiting room of the hospital with his head in his hands. He feels on the verge of going crazy. He doesn’t even know if this is real. He’s heard the expression ‘out of body experience’, but he never knew what people meant by that. Now he understands completely.

Dean doesn’t even need an answer, he knows how this happened.

“He’s going to be okay,  Dean,” Sam says. “He’ll get through this.”

Of course Sam is the voice of reason, as always. Dean just can’t get it out of his mind: Cas passed out, blood everywhere. The paramedics got there as quick as they could, but Dean hadn’t been sure if it was quick enough. Cas had been passed out for three minutes and his breathing kept getting slower and slower. Which of course made Dean more and more panicked.

As soon as the paramedics got there, they had pushed Dean and Sam back before they wrapped Cas’s arms in gauze, which were almost immediately soaked through with blood. The paramedics then carried his sweaty, seemingly lifeless body out of the bunker on a stretcher while shouting things back and forth to each other.

They hadn’t let Sam or Dean get in the ambulance with him, despite Dean shouting that he needed someone with him. That he couldn’t be alone. Dean demanded immediately that he and Sam had to drive to the hospital.

Sam had to drive because Dean was shaking too much.

“Dean, we’ll get him through this,” Sam promises. Dean’s not sure if he believes him or not, but he chooses not to question him. He wipes his eyes for the thousandth time that evening, having been unable to stop crying ever since they took Cas in the ambulance.

When they got to the hospital, they weren’t able to see him right away. Apparently, they weren’t immediate family.

But Cas doesn’t have an ‘immediate’ family.

So he is all alone in the room, possibly passed out, but still alone. And that is killing Dean.

A nurse comes out into the waiting room and says Cas’s name, getting Sam and Dean’s attention instantly.

“Hi, you’re here with Cas Winchester?” she asks them. They nod. “Okay, well  he’s stable, which is a good sign. We sedated him, so he’ll be sleeping for a while. But, we will allow person in at a time to go see him, as long as you promise not to get him worked up or stressed if he wakes up.”

Sam tells Dean to go first, that Cas needs to see him as soon as he wakes up. Dean nods, all emotions numb.

The nurse leads him to a glass room where Cas is lying in a bed and hooked up to weird looking machines. The nurse explains that he has to be in the glass room for observation until they get him on medication. Dean nods again, before walking in the room.

After sitting down in the hard chair next to Cas’s bed, Dean grabs his hand that is lying limply on bed. It’s cold and that scares Dean, so he wraps both of his hands around it to try and warm Cas using his own heat. He subconsciously smoothes his thumb over the top of Cas’s hand.  

Looking at Cas is a new kind of pain.

He has lost so much weight since he was an angel, he looks way too skinny. He’s so pale it’s almost ghost like, but he has extremely dark circles under his eyes. His hair is matted, dirty and completely messed up. He looks so small and so sick and Dean just can’t take it. He hadn’t realized how bad Cas had gotten. Dean brushes a piece of hair off of Cas’s forehead gently, as if it is the biggest problem right now.

Why didn’t he notice? He should’ve helped Cas. Castiel shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t have wanted to try and kill himself. Dean should’ve known.

Dean runs a soft hand across Cas’s cheek and breaks down.

“Oh Cas,” he whispers before brokenly sobbing, putting his head in the bed next to Cas’s hand.

He’s not sure how long he sits next to Cas, not talking, just simply crying. He doesn’t even know why he’s crying, if he’s being honest. He just wishes this had never happened. He wishes again that he could be the one in the hospital bed instead of Cas.

When the tears stop coming, he turns to prayers. He has no idea who he’s even praying to. It might be God or all of the angels together or it may even be to Cas. He just prays for someone, anyone, to come help his angel. His amazing, beautiful, fallen angel.

***

It takes two days for Cas to wake up because of the drugs they gave him. Two long, torturous days that Dean spends in the hospital waiting room when they kick him out of Cas’s hospital room. Sam eventually leaves, goes back to the bunker to shower and eat and sleep for a little while. He tries to get Dean to go with him, but after a long argument ending with Dean in tears, he allows Dean to stay at the hospital for as long as he wishes.

So, Dean waits for Cas to wake up.

The nurse gets Dean from the waiting room the minute he does.  

Dean nearly runs to the room, almost breaking into happy tears when he meets Cas’s eyes.

And when it happens, Dean sees Cas’s blue eyes like it’s the first time all over again. After hours of just seeing Cas’s eyelids, he had started to miss the bright blue that sees into your soul.

“Cas,” he breathes, walking straight over to the bed and wrapping Cas in a tight, yet gentle hug. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry,” Dean says into Cas’s hair. “You can’t do that, you can’t. You scared the shit out of me. Please, don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says against Dean’s shoulder, his voice rough. “I didn’t think it would affect you or Sam if I was gone,” he mumbles. Dean pulls back and puts his hands on either side of Cas’s face. He looks directly into Cas’s eyes, his own filled with fear.

Dean can’t believe Cas would ever think like that. Doesn’t he understand how much he means to them?

“What do you mean? If you had-- I can’t live without you Cas,” Dean says. Cas tilts his head to the side and squints slightly, like he does when he’s confused. “I love you, Cas. God, I love you, you idiot,” he whispers. Dean leans forward and kisses Cas deeply, putting all of his love and pain and worry into it.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry,” Cas says, his voice breaking at the end as tears spill over onto his cheeks. “I love you, too. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbles as Dean pulls him in for a tighter  hug like he’s trying to hold Cas together.

“It’s okay. It won’t be easy, but we’ll get through this together. I promise, Cas.”

***

Two Years Later

Dean kept his promise.

The brothers, Dean especially, made sure to tell Cas as often as possible how much they needed him. It took about a year for him to finally make it through his depression, though he sometimes still has days where he can barely get out of he and Dean’s bed. Those are the days where Dean and Sam make sure that he understands how much he means to them.

Castiel still has the nightmares, despite Dean holding him every night, despite having seen a therapist. It’s always the same one: him falling quickly down to Earth with no end in sight. Dean usually is able to wake him up and they sit talking the rest of the night, neither of them able to fall asleep.

After the hospital, Dean hovered around Cas for months. He made sure that Cas was eating, drinking, sleeping, showering-- everything a human needs to do to survive. He eventually backed off a little, but only after Cas had put on some weight and was smiling at least every other day.

And Dean and Cas fell further in love with each other every day. Was it perfect? Far from it, but they somehow always made it through the bad times. They argued often, usually about stupid things, but sometimes the arguments were important. Their arguments were never hurtful, in fact, loving each other too much was often part of the problem. The good times were great though and made up for the bad.

Cas was always afraid to fall. But falling for Dean was the easiest and least painful thing he’d ever done.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this story. I had been kicking around this idea for a while and couldn't help but start writing it. <3


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